Nikanova and Epiphano (Donna and Jamison)...
~The alley was dank and cold and it smelled like garbage. Nika leaned against the door and tried not to notice. In truth it was her only refuge when she worked. It was either the alley or the back room with all the other girls. Inhaling stale smoke and dirty stories in the same breath. Watching through eyes of somber hue the women that were her 'co-workers'. Harsh, jaded women that earned a living by taking off their clothes. Most of whom supplemented that income by a little freelance prostition after the club closed.
Nika brought her last cigarette to her lips. It dimpled the soft, plush curve of her mouth as she inhaled deeply. For a moment she held the smoke within her, feeling it curl it's way down her throat and nestle in her lungs. It was warm and comforting and gave her a moments respite from her world. A flithy habit, yes, but the only one she had and she relished it. Without a sound she allowed the smoke to leave her body, it jetted from her nose into the chilled air of the ally. A dragon breathing sulfer and brimstone into the night. It billowed over her lips and and wafted in lazy spirals up and away into the darkness. Nika leaned her dark head back against the building and watched the wisps disappear, wanting to follow, to be able to just spiral away without a sound, to leave this harsh world behind and never look back.
Nika was just 23. A beautiful and sexy 23. She had always been beautiful, even as a little child she had turned heads as she walked down the street with her momma. Blissfully unaware of her physical charms, she skipped and and carried on in her child's voice about things that occupied her child's mind. But as she grew, the weight of her looks began to set her apart. Woman shunned her like the plague, knowing that if the stood next to her, they paled and disappeared. All but invisible in her shadow. And the men only wanted her for her body. Never considering that she had a mind that was quick, intelligent and thirsting for knowledge.
In time it became painfully apparent to her that if she wanted to make anything worthwhile out of her life. That she would have to pay the price with her body. The thought of becoming a prostitute crossed her mind briefly. But she knew she would never be able to abide being touched and pawed by disgusting drunks who thought that just because they paid for a woman, they owned her body, mind and spirit. And so, she did the only thing she had left, became an exotic dancer. Or, as her father put it, a filthy stripper. His words amused her for the most part...Considering the things he had done to her as a child. The humiliation she had suffered at his hands. The pain of having her small body invaded by insatiable, sick desires.
Oh yes, Nika learned early what her body could do for her...and now she was using it to pay for her way through law school. She danced and gyrated around a pole with barely a stitch on. Like a pack of hounds on the scent of a bitch in heat, they hooted and howled. Their penises rock hard in their pants as they rubbed themselves and begged for sexual acts from the dancers, stuffing dollar bills into their g-strings. And at night, alone in her studio apartment, she counted it out carefully and tucked it away. Then went and took a long, hot shower and tried to scrub their fingerprints off her flesh. Unfortunately, she could never obliterate their grinning, slavering faces from mind.~
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Epiphano Tragic
On the outside, a person learns to wear a smile for the right people. A toothy facade of happiness which displays one's outlook upon any given and presented situation. But on the inside, giving those people I saw a warm, caring smile, I felt nothing but seething, churning contempt for them. For every face I bruised and bloodied int he ring or on the street, there was ten more that I truly felt deserved it. For every past due loanee that needed to be taught a lesson, a hundred more flittered through my mind who I would have loved to break and batter.
But I just sat there, staring up at the sky tainted by the ever climbing heights of towering buildings. A skyline dominated by man's perverse desire to make up for his shortcomings. I would have laughed, if I wasn't always feeling a rolling tidal wave of disdain within the pit of my stomach. It's acidy taste tingling against the back of my thoughts and throat like a virus I just couldn't wash away with booze and women. Lord knows I tried so many times. Even winning the title belt didn't help to sooth back this constantly growing rage. If anything, it just made it worse. Made me feel a little emptier the more I smiled, the more polite I laid on thick and heavy to placate the 'Family'.
Fingers reaching upwards, I rubbed at my neck to try and rid myself of the pre-fight stiffness that always lingered a bit too long. These fights, the brawls, the lessons were taking their toll on me. Not just on my mind and spirit, but also on my body. I can't remember the last time I enjoyed anything other than spending a few unbroken hours in the gym. I didn't drink, because it made me sicker than I already was. I didn't sleep with women, because they were sicker than I could have been. I didn't do the recreational drugs, because my idea of recreation didn't require that I lose my mind in the process.
I was left with this night, it's faint brush of chill caressing along my bare chest and back. Only to be followed up by hands. Not my own, but those of the Mistress. Her touch sending an unpleasent shiver down my spine. I just smiled, letting her think I enjoyed the obligatory rub-down. I just wanted to reach out and break her face open, and watch all that cold nothingness bleed out on the street. I just wanted to see her rotting away in some too thin coffin nailed together with cheap wood found in a nearby dumpster. I just wanted to scream and yell and spew my vehement loathing at her, and watch her crumble into a huddled pile of tears and fright.
"You mind if I head inside and get a drink? Think I'm going to need something to help me get to sleep."
"Go right on ahead, Mr. Tragic. Use the side door so the bouncers don't give you any grief."
I just nodded, giving that same, self-inhibiting smile. What I wouldn't have given to spend three minutes in the ring with her, letting her know how I really felt. That was the same kind of feeling I had with everyone I met. Every damned person trying to rape me of my youth, my strength, my potential, all so that they could gain something that someone else had. Didn't matter what it was. Sex, money, drugs, fame. I'd been used just so that one man's wife would divorce him and marry anothers. Granted, the one I sent to the hospital for three months needed it, but I'm not splitting hairs of my own moral dilema.
With a soft exhale of breath, feeling my lungs ready to collapse beneath the strain of living, I slowly began walking towards the alley. My mind slowly going blank as I tried to clear all the negative wonts from it. Each step taking me closer to a Zen like state where nothing in the world existed by my own self-awareness. That place I went to just before a fight, before I felt the blinding heat of pain radiating from every part of my body
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Nika:
~When the cigarette burnt down to a smoldering nub, she tossed it aside and ground out the glowing tip beneath a leather clad toe. Her hands came up to rub at her arms, the flimsy outfit she wore not offering much protection against the cold. One moment more to stare at the stars that were just barely visable beyond the the monumental buildings and pollution filled sky. It was sad, really, what men did to this world. So determined to show their superiority over nature, searching for ultimate control, when really, they had none. They were only railing against their on rushing death. Struggling to leave their 'mark' upon a world that could care less. Five minutes after their last breath left their bodies, the world would still be spinning on it's axis; and they would only be remembered by the mortician who prepared their body for it's final rest. Life was harsh and bitter and memories where short.
With a small grunt Nika pushed herself away from the building, preparing to go inside for her final set. Hands smoothing and tugging the fragile fabric back in place over her voluptuous curves. Reminding herself that this would all be worth it someday. The day she finally stood in a courtroom, giving closing arguments to a jury and convicting some rapist to his final doom. A slow bitter smile took her lips then, the man that had been her father flashing briefly through her mind. The atrocities he had visited upon her and her younger sister finally vindicated. Not by a court of law, no. But by a young woman with an agile mind and a penchant for chemistry and odd poisons. He had died bit by bit, slowly, over many months. And she had enjoyed every bit of it. Playing the doting daughter, cooking his meals, cleaning his house, bathing him. Even suffering his hands on her as she washed him. His half hard penis struggling to show he was still a man. She had coo'd and pampered and tucked him into bed with a doting smile. When inside she was seething in white hot rage. A hatred so profound and expansive there were no words to voice it.
Her patience had known no bounds then. She had wanted to watch him suffer, die inch by inch, second by second, minute by minute, day by day. And when his final moment came, long months after she had begun to construct this final moment of retribution, she leaned over his bed and whispered in his ear.~ I killed you, daddy. ~The soft warmth of her voice like a shard of ice to his heart. His eyes had gone wide with realization, staring at her as if he had never seen her. And indeed, he never had. She had not looked away, watching carefully, recording every second of his death to be re-played over and over again in her mind. His last death rattle a song of ultimate freedom in her ears. Nika, the angel of death, beautiful, graceful, intelligent...deadly. Like a butterfly with deadly wings, she had swooped down upon him, kissing his cheek lovingly before she spat in his face. Turning on her heel to leave him and that life behind her forever.
Upon the echo of the night, beyond the sounds of the city. Past the bump and grind of the music within the club. Footsteps sounded in the alley. Solitary, determined and unyeilding. As if before them they expected all things to hold sway. She turned her head to look toward the sound. Her hair tumbling darkly over her arms and back in soft, scented waves of a midnight tide.~
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Epiphano Tragic
For reasons beyond my understanding, my mind seemed to hold within it a saucy latin beat that played in and out of my thoughts like the wind dancing through spring bound trees. Whispers of some salsa singer intermingling within the beat that brought about a change in my step. For a moment, the heels of my shoes tapped out against the alley within a few, swift dance moves that mimiced those made within the ring. Then back into my stride I slipped, unaware that eyes might have been watching, observing my interlude of insanity within music that only I could hear.
Yet rapidly I did become aware of eyes upon me, searching the depths of night fallen shadow which cast their jaded lines of black and light over my features. I paused, suddenly taken aback by what I saw in return. Not so much for her physical beauty, because to be quite honest, I had seen those women who could have been goddess on such a thing alone. No... she stole my wits and breath away within that look which was intense, penetrating into my soul and begging me to try something, anything.
Instead, a cooler head prevailed, as I offered a tip of my hat to her. A silent greeting that was not heralded by any change in my expression. Beautiful intense, sizzling, scintilating she might have been, but considering that she stood outside the backdoor of the club, wearing barely a stitch of real clothing, and all dolled-up like a high rate walker, I wasn't about to show any more interest than I felt was necessary. Though, damned if I didn't want to show that very interest which I hid behind the veiling shadows over my eyes.
"Evening. Lovely night for a walk."
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Nika:
~A jet black brow quirked upward as I watched the man travel down the alley way. I could not help but wonder what he was doing here. This place was fairly deserted as a rule. No one ventured here unless it was necessary. I glanced away from him for a moment while I appraised my place of refuge. Littered it was with all manner of waste. Garbage of every ilk and form a society of careless humans could produce. The smell during the summer was horrendous, I rarely came here then.
Only when I was desperate for a breath of something other than cheap perfume and stale booze. I had been a transient tennant of this alley long enough to know that rarely, if ever, did another person use it...Even as the handy short cut it was. Just the rats and I, we had learned to tolerate each other. An uneasy peace at best. If they ventured too close I was not above giving them a solid kick with the spiked heels I normally wore for work.
My gaze was again drawn toward the approaching stranger. Still wondering what business he had in such a place. His steps were smooth and strong, his gait without hesitation and self assured. He looked neither right nor left and did not peer into the shadows that assailed this place at night. It was as if he knew, without the slightest doubt, that he could handle who or whatever might dare confront him. I could not help my smile as his steps became less measured. Though still graceful and full of that smooth confidence he exuded....they tapped a rhythm that was not of walking, but of dancing. His head tipped slightly to the side as if some far off siren sang her beguiling lyrics within his mind. I could almost hear the music, so aptly did his feet narrate the the driving beat.
I shrank back a little into the shadow of the building. My hand coming up to cover my mouth so the laugh lingering behind my lips would not disturb my private dancer. But alas, I had been noticed long before I had noticed him. His dark gaze resting upon my own as if he was peering into my soul.~
Or a dance.
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Epiphano Tragic
A nod, barely glimpsed upon by the eyes of nature. So fleeting was it's passing, that one might even miss it entirely. But I could tell she was watching, and knew well enough that she was watching, measuring the passing of time within her own manner, as all those observant creatures did. And just as her attention was paid upon minute details, subtle vices and flittering detail, my own eyes roamed over the sea of her body, taking in all the lucious curves which begged to be touched and caressed by a lover true of heart and guilty of intentions.
"Depends on the dance."
I thought for a moment, that such words might have been tinged with the obviousness of my attraction. But then again, they also felt cold and stand-offish. A delicate balance it was at time, conversing with a beautiful woman. Something I hadn't quite mastered yet. Which was, not to say I hadn't tried. But it was one thing to be able to fight any man within the roped arena, with fists bare and bearing upon flesh and bone. It was entirely different to try and give face and light to complex ideas like want and lust.
"Though, I don't suppose you have that problem."
She had the body of a dancer. Lean, slender, toned. Thighs that could grip a man's waist and squeeze the very pleasure from his muscles. Her arms held that beguiling strength, held so tightly within the guise of a woman's delicacy. Had I not the eye for such things, I would have thought her a meager serving of petite beauty upon a silver platter of innocence. But then, no body stsood outside in an alley, behind a strip club, unless they were lacking that very finite purity which was lost all too quickly in the city.
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Nika:
~In the grand scheme of things these two were but a brief breath of time before all of creation. Nothing more or less than granules of dust and moisture wrought together by the hands of bored gods. Each flickered breifly upon the stage, a dance of life. They were born, they lived, they loved, they died. And yet, they thought themselves and their petty peccadilloes so important.
Why then did she feel as if fate had just stepped into her life in the form of a handsome man, who danced to some unheard beat in his head, down a dark, smelly, deserted alley? It seemed as if somewhere, as the arch of time spread above them, casting it's uncaring eye upon all things, someone had decided to notice her. And she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to be noticed, by anyone.
Watching his eyes travel her form slowly, she stood without moving. Only her breath whispered over her lips, accompanied by the rise and fall of her breasts. Which she became suddenly aware were scantily covered by her costume. Her set was next and she had dressed before coming out to the alley to smoke her last cigarette. His eyes lingered upon the soft curves which rose delectably about the décolletage of her scant dress. And as it was supposed to do, it enticed him. He need-n't speak any words for her to know this. The hunger in his dark gaze was quite evident. And though she was used to being oogled and even pawed. There was something about him that made her want to cover herself. As if she wanted him to know that beneath her physical beauty, beneath the smooth skin, pale and almost translucent in the silvered moonlight. Beneath the the seemingly bottomless obsidian pools of her eyes, beneath the full lips and patrician nose. The unblemished brow and the the sculpted rise of her cheeks. Beneath a figure full and lush and capable of bringing a man to his knees to beg her favors. Nika wanted this man to know her. Not the shell that covered the soul...But the soul that was housed in the shell.
The silence lingered as they faced each other. It seemed eons long, but it could not have been more than a few seconds in truth. The rats, her companions in an uneasy truce, scuttled too and fro, chattering busily to each other about tasty morsels found here or there. Somewhere in the distance a cat yowled in the proverbial back alley fence. It's amorous attentions captured by a lady love of feline perfection. The tom's desire clearly written on the plantative notes of his song. Cars rolled by, splashing tires in puddles made by the recent rains, but they too, were off in a world far removed from this one. She knew, marginally, she should say something, but was at a loss for words. Her tongue licked at lips too dry and numb to give way to her voice.
And then a crack of thunder ripped through the sky. It shook the building next to them and left a wake of grumbling echos behind. A flash of ligtening followed and it broke her trance. Glancing quickly toward the sky, she smiled, a smile that would capture a god and make him glad he created such as she. ~
"Or the dancer"
~Soft words almost lost withing another roar of thunder. Wisps of a storm tore at the fragile tissue of her clothes, the air tasted of ozone, the scent of rain riding each breath inhaled. Her gaze reverted back to him as impending doom in the form of a storm rode the stale air of the alley.~
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Epiphano Tragic
Touches of a tingle roaming along my spine. Tendrils of tantilizing tremor rolling through my muscles. Ripples of raw, unbridled passiong seeping into my loins at this moment, this woman, this night shared for the spans of a breath. Twinles of light in the horizon bearing more life than either her or myself should have been offered. Yet there we stood, in a wayward silence that beheld only the intensity of our eyes lingering against the other. Twinkles of moon raining down upon bodies both half clad in various ways and forms.
Slowl did fingers rise from their respite by my side. Tips taking light hold of hat brim, and easing it from my crown as I offered a slight bow of my head in an exaggerated bow. A half mocking acceptance of her reply, a half truthful giving of my accpetance towards her response. So true was it, that the dancer mattered as much as the dance. Yet neither could live without one another, or be consumed without the partnering kind.
A shifting of grasp, as digits splayed to hold upon the bowl of my hat. Lips pulled into a hap-hazard smile which bespoke both sanity, and the equal lack there of. Once more that adornment was placed upon my shaven head, lending it's shade agains the night over eyes which offered so much warmth in the way of lustful gaze. Their color mirroring the emotional distress within my chest, where my heart beat like a furious drum master.
"I get the feeling, both the dancer, and the dance, are something not to be missed."
I was, in all obviousness, talking about her as again my eyes wandered over her body in ways that scavenging carrion birds would be jealous of. I wanted her, hungered for that flesh which lay beneath so thin a covering as the costime which scarcely offered itself as protection from the elements. Elements that were rather rapidly coming to dampen the city again, within sheets of it's heavenly waters. Droplettes of redemption to clean away the sins of man and woman alike, and bring us some semblance of innocense that we once knew when we were children.
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Nika:
*The heavens shook the earth. Great trembling roars of thunder each hard upon the heels of tearing streaks of lightening. Clouds tumbled over the moon, dancing and scuttling to obscure it's glow in eerie half light. Their bellies heavy, pregnant with moisture that would not be denied it's birth. Each split of the heavens brought him in clear releif against the absolute blackness of the night. His movements much like those of an old movie, or a stereograph. Instead of the fluid grace I had witnessed earlier, it brought him into clear focus at odd moments. So that his movements did not blend together as did his dance, but splayed jerkily into life. I thought, oddly, of an old Charlie Chaplin movie and laughed aloud. The sound torn from my lips as quickly as it was born. An offering to appease the gods of the oncoming storm, to be found lacking in the dedication of the sacrifice.
From the sublime to the ridiculous, he doffed his hat and offered me a courtly bow. Again that old time cinema star came to mind. The flicker of the lightening reminiscent of the odd, jerking motion of those old time movies. Again I could not help but laugh, he lacked only the shirt, over size shoes and twitching mustache. For a moment I had the odd urge to curtsey and flutter my eyelashes. Simpering and giggling like a stage coquette, given to enrapture the beau of fancy. Indeed my hand fell to fasten upon the silken tendrils of the costume that swirled around my thighs. Pushed to and fro by the careless wind, it gave brief glimpses of the g-string beneath it's gossamer sheen. Only then did I think better of the idea. For I had nothing of the giggling, innocent damsel about me. I was deeply shaded in temptation and desire. A perfect vision of Lilith thrown from the garden by an irate god.
Instead I turned my face toward the enraged heavens again. I loved storms, all kinds and ilk of storms. The made me feel alive in the way nothing else could. The electricity that lay within the air roise the hair on the nape of my neck and along my arms. I felt my nipples harden within their thin prison of fabric. My long, ebony shaded hair flew like a wips of a tattered pennant behind and about me. Giving way with the whimseys of this fickle wind. It lashed wildly about my face and form and gave me the look of a Medusa that was intent upon turning flesh to stone.
His words brought me back to earth. My dark gaze, once again, seeking his own. The hat, placed firmly back upon his head, shadowed his eyes within it's fabric gloom. But it could not hide the flicker that lingered in that darkness. I thought that perhaps, nothing could until death found him and placed her hand over his eyes to coax and tease him to enternal sleep.~
"You have only to pay the price to find out if you are right."
~My head inclined toward the door of the club. Indicating that he need only to pay the cover charge to watch the dancer within the embrace of her dance.~
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Epiphano Tragic
A bowing of roiling, cotton barrier. Clouds unable to retain the weight which they had suckled forth from the very air, only to give it back within a deluge. A race of droplettes from their whispering start gate, loosing within a single moment the waters which pelted down upon the world beneath. Perhaps though, I was the lucky finish line this time. The destined prize for their heated travels towards an earth that would suckle upon each with ravenous thirst.
Within passing breaths, I found myself soaked. The rainfall thick like the gaze which peered out from beneath my hat. A sheen of glistening moisture collecting upon the bare flesh of my torso, and falling further to bleed into my slacks and shoes. Yet I did not move amidst the drowning, simply holding her eyes, her body within my ever wanton view. Every exhale brought upon a need to taste, to touch, or take. And yet, still I remained motionless save for the subtle tremble of muscle and skin above my heart.
Another flash of static within the air, coursing along like a freight train headlong into some unknown station to drop off it's passengers. The afore mentioned burden being attraction, magnetism, chemistry if you will. And so clearly I could see it echoed upon her body, within the depthy pools of those eyes which stared back at me. The way she shifted her weight, how she licked at her lips. The more I looked upon, the more I realized that I wanted to pay, I wanted to get inside of the club to watch her dance. Perhaps, I wanted to pay to see a private show, where I might become another one of those men grabbing and pawing and carooning out my caterwal song to this creature of perfection.
"Maybe the show I want, the dance I'm hungry to see, can't be bought with step inside that door."
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Nika:
~And then the heavens poured forth her regret in one mighty torrent. Tears of rain fell in heavy droplets upon my skin. Each struck without a sound, yet it's death echoed in all of time. The earth took what it could, but being drenched from the previous rain o earlier, it regurgitated the excess in puddles filled with the alley's filth. Flotsam and jetsam swam in dank, oily pools that stared back at the grumbling sky with bane disinterest.
Dark strands of hair slicked against my skull. Ebony rivulets that curled their fingers closely against my form. Like a lovers wanton fingers they encompassed my breasts, sheilding prying eyes from the view that the soaked fabric now gave. My long, dancers legs were outlined in shimmering perfection as my dress clung to me lovingly. The skin of my body glistening with moisture as it did after I had danced long and hard before the slavering masses that helped to pay my bills. My meager exsistance fed only by their lustful desire and waton howls.
In the savergy of this onslaught and deep within my own thoughts, I stood before this stranger. His eyes still devouring the sight of me as a starving man would devour his first meal in weeks. I could not help but wonder why. He was a good looking man, toned of body and handsome of face. In every nuance of him lingered danger. It was beneath his skin as surely as there was blood and bone and sinew. His very walk the gait of a predator. His calm assurance in even dank and dark places, assured and without an ounce of fear. I could see no weapon, but that did not mean there wasn't one. But somehow I thought no, this one would use his hands. He would delight in the feel of bone and skin splitting beneath the onslaught of his fists.
So why did he gaze upon me as if I was the first woman he had seen in weeks? I knew not. Perhaps he thought me easy prey, a conquest that would feed his male pride. His next words spoke loudly of that very idea to me. And yet I could not quite reconcile that he would need me as another notch on his bedpost. The club was full of women that would throw themselves upon him in eager anticipation of what that hard body promised.
I let his words trail away upon the wind and rain and thunder. I only stood and looked at him. I was already soaked to the skin, what did a few more minutes matter.~
"Perhaps not. But it is the only one you will get from me."
~Did my voice sound as harsh to him as it did to me. There was a cold and biting edge to it that I did not intend. Echos of my childhood rang in my head. My father's hands, unwanted upon me, probing my secret places and robbing me of my innocence long before it was time. I could not shake that past no matter how I tried. And when I thought of it, I retreated into myself. Before me always, the vision of my father, laying dying upon his death bed which I had constructed with pretty poison.
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Epiphano Tragic
~~New Conenant / 2004~~
A smoothed sculpture of ice. A work of art too pure and frigid of heart to be anything more than a beautiful work to be scrutinized by the men who looked about in reveric desire. Yet I looked beyond her, beyond the soft exterior and jagged lines of experience. Staring so deeply that I could almost see her soul, burning and thumping in time with life's gyrating rhythm. Each pulse another scent to be trailed upon, to be followed, lingering against the mere caress of it against my thoughts.
"Guess you get a lot of hoods looking for a private show. Must get pretty old after awhile. Constantly trying to get you in their spider webs. A bunch of one-line pickups aimed at what's between your thighs, rather than what's behind your eyes."
How easy it would have been to just reach out, to tear away the gossamer thin cloth and reveal the creamy alabaster flesh beneath. So thin were her garments, that a good, stiff wind would have slipped them from her shapely form and left her bare to the world. But I wouldn't be that wind, nor would I bring my hands near her. She was something else. A dame I couldn't touch, nor could I have. Trouble written in a myriad of different languages, all looking for something bigger and better. I could see that on her face, as I felt her looking me over. I could see it in the way she stood, unafraid of the vermin scampering about in the shadows, chittering over their pacts with the devil.
Finally, I reached out. Fingers curling slightly as their traversed their path through the air. Muscle and tendon tensing, bringing bone beneath lightly tanned flesh to ripple with every movement. The actions echoed upwards through my limb, finally taking residence within the breadth of a shoulder, toned from my hours in the gym. Eyes watching, studying, observing the way the air almost moved around my body, how the rain pelted against and trickled off my arm, before finding it's place upon the dirt ridden alleyway.
In a single moment, the decesion was made, and slowly I opened the door. Never letting my eyes leave her form, the sulty curves begging me over and over with voices that I didn't want to hear ricocheting within my mind. Instead of obeying their wants, their hungers, I pulled open that portal into the club, watching the billows of smoke roll out into the storm stained air. All the while my lips remained pursed flatly, not sure whether to frown or smile at her open rejection of my own desires.
"What's the cover charge?"
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Nika:
~I knew what he was thinking. Not because I was a seer or soothsayer. Not because I was precognitive or gifted with second sight. But because I had seen that same hungry look in a hundred pairs of eyes on a hundred nights. The gleam of desire, of want, of need of a lust that knew no bounds, not one of reason, or wallet, or wives, or children. Eyes that had no brain behind them because it had settled within the crotches they rubbed with one hand as they tucked money in glittering g-strings with the other. Mouths that called me baby, sugar, honey, sweet thang! Lips that lied in the promise of a paradise I had never known. Grabbing and grasping fingers that thought because I danced for them, gyrated to the insistant beat of the blaring music, that they had a right to touch me.
As his hand reached out toward me, I watched the play of muscle beneath his skin. He could overtake me if he chose. I was strong, well toned, I spent hours everyday working out. But I would be no match for him and I knew it. His flesh glittered with moisture and his torso was clearly and cleanly defined even in the struggling light of the moon. Yes, he could take me, and he knew that. But he also knew that though he might possess me physically, he would never own my mind, my soul, the very essence of me. Long ago, as a little girl of 12, I had learned to lock that portion of myself away, while my grunting, sweating father lay on top of me in my little girl bed, spilling his rancid seed within my delicate child's body. I knew depravity well, and I knew how to protect myself from it. The physical was nothing, it was toy, a shell that housed the fire of spirit. You could twist, bend it, break it...ravage it. But if you never allowed it inside, it would never break you.~
"Not all of them are hoods." ~I replied quietly. In fact most of them were not. Most were 'decent' business men with real lives and a 9 to 5 white collar job.~ "How do you know there is anything behind my eyes. I could be an empty headed bimbo. My only asset being my ability to bump and grind my way to a few bucks"
I watched as his extended arm snaked past me. His strong fingers lingering upon the cheap, faux brass door knob that led to the back hallway of the club. As he rotated his hand, I heard the quiet snick of the latch as it gave way, even above the noise that rolled out covered in smoke. I sighed softly then, this was my life and I wondered breifly if it always would be. If my dream of law school and court rooms and a home in the quiet suburbs with a swiming pool in the back yard and a Saab in the driveway, were destined only to be dreams.
The scent of cheap booze, cheaper perfume and raucous laughter assailed me as I turned toward the open door. The smell and sound of desperate people trying to convince themselves that they were having a good time, that someone loved them, that they mattered. When one only had to look into empty eyes dimmed by booze and lust to know...they were only partially successful. Booze and lust eventually wore off and you were left flacid and wanting until you could work up the balls to start the cycle all over again.
I did not answer his question about the cover charge as we were going in the back way the point was moot. I did however turn on my heel even as I started down the hall. Facing him I realized how very tall he was. The quarters were close and I had turned abruptly. As he had been close upon my heels, there was scant a hands breadth between us. I had to tip my head back to gaze up into his face, and I was tall.~
"By the way, I am Nikanova...Most call me Nika."
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Epiphano Tragic
~~New Conenant / 2004~~
A breath inhaled of her's, the fragrance tainted and tinged by tobacco and dreams. The scent touching against my senses, bringing arousal to grow more encompassing, more complete. I found myself becoming so rapidly addicted, and I knew nothing of this woman save for her chosen profession, and within the steps inside, I came to know her name. Nikanova... Nika. Russian sounding. Like one of of those fifth generations who's grandmother's grandmother's grandmother came over from the mother land ages ago when the Statue of Liberty still meant something. When it was more than just another tourist trap sucking in the poor and the impoverished souls of foreign nations.
Behind her I followed, feeling the breeze capturered between shoulders and walls where barely enough room was left to breathe, let alone move. Then she stopped, sudden, swift, unaware that I was so close against her back that I could inhale the scent of perspiration laden shampoo within the ebony lockes of hair that flowed down her back, moist and damp by rainfall. A moment passing too quick to recall, where I touched againt her body, where we melded as one and so easily molded along the curves of the other.
"Name's Epiphano Tragic. Epi works, too."
Epiphano. A name which was part itallian, and part cuban. My mother wound up winning that debate upon a name, which brought me very little ridicule, as no one through my life save for those who knew me, and my mother when extremely annoyed with my exploits, could say correctly. There was a time when I dreaded it, when the very sound made me cringe and shiver from head to toe. Now, it was the mantric chant within the arena, offered as sacrifice to the bathing of blood against knuckles which occured when I stepped inside the ropes.
That brought me back to her. To Nika. To the woman who within the spanse of an evening's conversation in an alley, enthralled and enamored me unto her in ways no other had. I suddenly found myself question all those other fling's and relationships I once had, and wondered what could be. Yet the moment I thought of such frivilous pleasures, a sweeping glance over her supple, soft, icey features reminded me that any chance taken, would be a risk not worth following through.
I was left then to simply look down into her eyes. The dim lights from above us cut in half by the brim of hat, scarring my features within jaded shadows. A stark contrast played out over those ridges of flesh which could not be hidden within the depths of darkness. My eyes, the whole while, staring down into hers. Realizing that she was the tallest woman I had seen in as many years, making me feel as though I could quite dominate the space she inhabited. I could only look down, and see a woman seeking her equality within this world.
"You going to dance in those clothes?"
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Nika:
*Within the sounds encased in this narrow passage. I heard only him. It seemed as if all other things went the way of the unimportant. I found myself a hair's breath from touching him, my fingers curling at my side to control the impulse. Here in this space, he took the breath from all other living things and made it his own. As fire eats oxygen and burns brighter and hotter with each lick of flame laden tongue, so he shone and all others became mere smoke in his presence. Though he was darkness itself, a shadow written in undeniable lines. He was the shade in the corner of your room at night, drawing your eyes again and again, seeing nothing but knowing that something was there. And as your vision settled with unwavering intensity upon that darkest apex were wall meets wall, and talks in their arcane plaster language. You became aware that should that the shimmering blackness, blacker than any other place within your room of pitch and gloom, begin to move and speak. You would belong to it forever. Your abyss joined in enterity with the entity which had come, unbeknownst to you, to claim your heart, your soul, your body, your mind.
I knew myself becoming entranced in a way I never had before. Drawn to him as the sea is drawn restlessly toward a midnight shore under a high and pregnant moon. I wondered, as we stood, toe to toe and almost eye to eye, if I had met him before. Perhaps along a corridor in my nightmares, or a flowered path within my dreams. Why did he seem so familiar, yet his face a complete mystery to me. Silent we stood for a very long time, I knew him to be examining me, and I did not flintch. I had been looked at by men all my life, with eyes made of avarice and longing. I knew every look of want and need, of passion and desire. Every druken gaze, red eyed and ugly, that spoke of their salacious desire to possess.
Under the shaded brim of his hat, that was pulled low over his eyes, I saw all those things. Written as clearly as if they were scrawled upon the club's mens room wall. Yet the deeper I looked into those twin ebony pools, the more I saw the soul of the man before me. And I knew, though he could reach out and take what he wanted, he would not. He might frequent with whores when his need became a burning appetence in his loins, but he had no need for rape. Perhaps I saw a flicker of respect for me there, though I could not imagine why. We had barely exchanged names and knew each other not. But still, something nagged at me that I could not shake.
My nostrils distended, his scent wafting to me even amidst the myriad cloud of smells in this place. He carried the odor of clean sweat and tabacco..tinged with something that could have been cologne or after shave; though I thought it not the latter because his beard showed itself upon the chisled line of his jaw and along the strong curves and muscles of his neck. My eye followed the path it had set my eboy gaze upon, over his shoulders and the broad expanse of his chest. His skin shone with droplets of rain, reflecting oddly the amber lighting in the narrow passageway where we still stood. It brozed him, gilded him, made him look as if he were a greek god, carved from gold in homage to those that called Mount Olympus home. Should I kneel and grovel to pay homage to this earthbound diety? How many virgins would he require to sate him? Would one do? The thought made me laugh, a soft sound barely audible in this crowded, ugly, rife with the dregs of humanity, confined corridor.
Tick, tick, tick went the clock as we stood. Though neither of us were aware of the passage of time. The minute and second hand counted off as was their only duty in this world. Barely I heard the music, blaring and racous and insistently lewd. The patrons howling and stamping their feet as the girls gyrated and stripped off their clothes. The announcer calling for applause for each consecutive act, even as the music started for the next. Suddenly I did not want to be here. I wished we were somewhere other than this place of dirt and lust. This place where men and women fought for one moment of happiness, even if it was only a sham, a pretense of something they would never truly have.
For the first time in forever I was ashamed to strip. Ashamed of what I did for a living...what I had to do. I was damn good at it, better than most. I could dance, I mean really dance. My body was long and lithe and graceful. I was enticing to watch, my thin, gossamer costumes, my body shimmering and sparkling under the multi colored lights. Every movement practiced for long hours in the dance studio I attended. The music did not drive me, no, I controlled it. I was never wanton abandon, but abandon wanted. Where the patrons yowled and howled at the other girls when they were on stage. Total silence fell when I set my foot upon it. And when I was done...I could hear them panting. I was always in control.
But now I did not want that control. I wanted him to see me as I truly was, a law student. In little horn rimmed glasses, a pile of text books strewn around me. My computer screen giving off the soft light of technology. My features drawn into concentration, pencils stuck haphazardly into my pile of ebony hair. Dark eyes shaded with the fringe of my velvety lashes as I read about a world, another civilization away from this place. Away from booze and lust and stink and slime. A world of order and court rooms and beings of intelligence that fought for their clients...or prosecuted them in the name of the people.
As I gazed into his eyes, I wondered if he would ever know the real me. Why I did what I did for a living. And at the same time I wondered why it was so damn important to me that he know I was not just some low life stripper in a sleazy club. Even though, as far as things went in this place, I was the queen. I could have my choice of any guy out there, and then some. I often heard them calling my name between acts. Did in fact, hear them now. "Nika. Nika. Nika. Nika." The last act before mine was being called, Candy the Stipper, not very original, but then, most of these girls were lucky they could read.
Suddenly my hand shot out and landed upon his arm. His skin was hot beneath my fingers, the gilt god had life after all. I dug my nails, polished harlot red and perfectly shaped, into his flesh, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough for him to know he was to follow me. Placing my other hand, palm flat against his chest, I stood on tiptoe to whisper to him.. Our height difference was not great, but still enough I had to reach to place my lips against his ear.*
"I'm not going to dance at all." *An answer to the question he asked but a short while ago. "Follow me." *My voice was hurried and hushed even in my own ears. I sounded very much like a child who was about to cut school. Or perhaps...Like a woman about to take a desperate chance.
Without waiting for his answer I turned on my heel and started down the hall. Pushing past the bodies that stood shoulder to shoulder in it. Strippers lining up dates for after the show. Men come to ogle into the communal dressing room. The girls putting on a show for them and displaying their wares in hopes for a little after work overtime. I know I was muttering something to them as I shouldered my way through. Some of the men recognized me and put their hands on me...Winking and grinning wolfishly as they asked what I was doing after my show. Normally I would have kicked them in the balls for their trouble, but right now I just wanted out. I sought the door that Epihano and I had entered only moments before. An eternity seeming to have passed since then. A lifetime in the space of mere heartbeats*
Nika brought her last cigarette to her lips. It dimpled the soft, plush curve of her mouth as she inhaled deeply. For a moment she held the smoke within her, feeling it curl it's way down her throat and nestle in her lungs. It was warm and comforting and gave her a moments respite from her world. A flithy habit, yes, but the only one she had and she relished it. Without a sound she allowed the smoke to leave her body, it jetted from her nose into the chilled air of the ally. A dragon breathing sulfer and brimstone into the night. It billowed over her lips and and wafted in lazy spirals up and away into the darkness. Nika leaned her dark head back against the building and watched the wisps disappear, wanting to follow, to be able to just spiral away without a sound, to leave this harsh world behind and never look back.
Nika was just 23. A beautiful and sexy 23. She had always been beautiful, even as a little child she had turned heads as she walked down the street with her momma. Blissfully unaware of her physical charms, she skipped and and carried on in her child's voice about things that occupied her child's mind. But as she grew, the weight of her looks began to set her apart. Woman shunned her like the plague, knowing that if the stood next to her, they paled and disappeared. All but invisible in her shadow. And the men only wanted her for her body. Never considering that she had a mind that was quick, intelligent and thirsting for knowledge.
In time it became painfully apparent to her that if she wanted to make anything worthwhile out of her life. That she would have to pay the price with her body. The thought of becoming a prostitute crossed her mind briefly. But she knew she would never be able to abide being touched and pawed by disgusting drunks who thought that just because they paid for a woman, they owned her body, mind and spirit. And so, she did the only thing she had left, became an exotic dancer. Or, as her father put it, a filthy stripper. His words amused her for the most part...Considering the things he had done to her as a child. The humiliation she had suffered at his hands. The pain of having her small body invaded by insatiable, sick desires.
Oh yes, Nika learned early what her body could do for her...and now she was using it to pay for her way through law school. She danced and gyrated around a pole with barely a stitch on. Like a pack of hounds on the scent of a bitch in heat, they hooted and howled. Their penises rock hard in their pants as they rubbed themselves and begged for sexual acts from the dancers, stuffing dollar bills into their g-strings. And at night, alone in her studio apartment, she counted it out carefully and tucked it away. Then went and took a long, hot shower and tried to scrub their fingerprints off her flesh. Unfortunately, she could never obliterate their grinning, slavering faces from mind.~
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Epiphano Tragic
On the outside, a person learns to wear a smile for the right people. A toothy facade of happiness which displays one's outlook upon any given and presented situation. But on the inside, giving those people I saw a warm, caring smile, I felt nothing but seething, churning contempt for them. For every face I bruised and bloodied int he ring or on the street, there was ten more that I truly felt deserved it. For every past due loanee that needed to be taught a lesson, a hundred more flittered through my mind who I would have loved to break and batter.
But I just sat there, staring up at the sky tainted by the ever climbing heights of towering buildings. A skyline dominated by man's perverse desire to make up for his shortcomings. I would have laughed, if I wasn't always feeling a rolling tidal wave of disdain within the pit of my stomach. It's acidy taste tingling against the back of my thoughts and throat like a virus I just couldn't wash away with booze and women. Lord knows I tried so many times. Even winning the title belt didn't help to sooth back this constantly growing rage. If anything, it just made it worse. Made me feel a little emptier the more I smiled, the more polite I laid on thick and heavy to placate the 'Family'.
Fingers reaching upwards, I rubbed at my neck to try and rid myself of the pre-fight stiffness that always lingered a bit too long. These fights, the brawls, the lessons were taking their toll on me. Not just on my mind and spirit, but also on my body. I can't remember the last time I enjoyed anything other than spending a few unbroken hours in the gym. I didn't drink, because it made me sicker than I already was. I didn't sleep with women, because they were sicker than I could have been. I didn't do the recreational drugs, because my idea of recreation didn't require that I lose my mind in the process.
I was left with this night, it's faint brush of chill caressing along my bare chest and back. Only to be followed up by hands. Not my own, but those of the Mistress. Her touch sending an unpleasent shiver down my spine. I just smiled, letting her think I enjoyed the obligatory rub-down. I just wanted to reach out and break her face open, and watch all that cold nothingness bleed out on the street. I just wanted to see her rotting away in some too thin coffin nailed together with cheap wood found in a nearby dumpster. I just wanted to scream and yell and spew my vehement loathing at her, and watch her crumble into a huddled pile of tears and fright.
"You mind if I head inside and get a drink? Think I'm going to need something to help me get to sleep."
"Go right on ahead, Mr. Tragic. Use the side door so the bouncers don't give you any grief."
I just nodded, giving that same, self-inhibiting smile. What I wouldn't have given to spend three minutes in the ring with her, letting her know how I really felt. That was the same kind of feeling I had with everyone I met. Every damned person trying to rape me of my youth, my strength, my potential, all so that they could gain something that someone else had. Didn't matter what it was. Sex, money, drugs, fame. I'd been used just so that one man's wife would divorce him and marry anothers. Granted, the one I sent to the hospital for three months needed it, but I'm not splitting hairs of my own moral dilema.
With a soft exhale of breath, feeling my lungs ready to collapse beneath the strain of living, I slowly began walking towards the alley. My mind slowly going blank as I tried to clear all the negative wonts from it. Each step taking me closer to a Zen like state where nothing in the world existed by my own self-awareness. That place I went to just before a fight, before I felt the blinding heat of pain radiating from every part of my body
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Nika:
~When the cigarette burnt down to a smoldering nub, she tossed it aside and ground out the glowing tip beneath a leather clad toe. Her hands came up to rub at her arms, the flimsy outfit she wore not offering much protection against the cold. One moment more to stare at the stars that were just barely visable beyond the the monumental buildings and pollution filled sky. It was sad, really, what men did to this world. So determined to show their superiority over nature, searching for ultimate control, when really, they had none. They were only railing against their on rushing death. Struggling to leave their 'mark' upon a world that could care less. Five minutes after their last breath left their bodies, the world would still be spinning on it's axis; and they would only be remembered by the mortician who prepared their body for it's final rest. Life was harsh and bitter and memories where short.
With a small grunt Nika pushed herself away from the building, preparing to go inside for her final set. Hands smoothing and tugging the fragile fabric back in place over her voluptuous curves. Reminding herself that this would all be worth it someday. The day she finally stood in a courtroom, giving closing arguments to a jury and convicting some rapist to his final doom. A slow bitter smile took her lips then, the man that had been her father flashing briefly through her mind. The atrocities he had visited upon her and her younger sister finally vindicated. Not by a court of law, no. But by a young woman with an agile mind and a penchant for chemistry and odd poisons. He had died bit by bit, slowly, over many months. And she had enjoyed every bit of it. Playing the doting daughter, cooking his meals, cleaning his house, bathing him. Even suffering his hands on her as she washed him. His half hard penis struggling to show he was still a man. She had coo'd and pampered and tucked him into bed with a doting smile. When inside she was seething in white hot rage. A hatred so profound and expansive there were no words to voice it.
Her patience had known no bounds then. She had wanted to watch him suffer, die inch by inch, second by second, minute by minute, day by day. And when his final moment came, long months after she had begun to construct this final moment of retribution, she leaned over his bed and whispered in his ear.~ I killed you, daddy. ~The soft warmth of her voice like a shard of ice to his heart. His eyes had gone wide with realization, staring at her as if he had never seen her. And indeed, he never had. She had not looked away, watching carefully, recording every second of his death to be re-played over and over again in her mind. His last death rattle a song of ultimate freedom in her ears. Nika, the angel of death, beautiful, graceful, intelligent...deadly. Like a butterfly with deadly wings, she had swooped down upon him, kissing his cheek lovingly before she spat in his face. Turning on her heel to leave him and that life behind her forever.
Upon the echo of the night, beyond the sounds of the city. Past the bump and grind of the music within the club. Footsteps sounded in the alley. Solitary, determined and unyeilding. As if before them they expected all things to hold sway. She turned her head to look toward the sound. Her hair tumbling darkly over her arms and back in soft, scented waves of a midnight tide.~
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Epiphano Tragic
For reasons beyond my understanding, my mind seemed to hold within it a saucy latin beat that played in and out of my thoughts like the wind dancing through spring bound trees. Whispers of some salsa singer intermingling within the beat that brought about a change in my step. For a moment, the heels of my shoes tapped out against the alley within a few, swift dance moves that mimiced those made within the ring. Then back into my stride I slipped, unaware that eyes might have been watching, observing my interlude of insanity within music that only I could hear.
Yet rapidly I did become aware of eyes upon me, searching the depths of night fallen shadow which cast their jaded lines of black and light over my features. I paused, suddenly taken aback by what I saw in return. Not so much for her physical beauty, because to be quite honest, I had seen those women who could have been goddess on such a thing alone. No... she stole my wits and breath away within that look which was intense, penetrating into my soul and begging me to try something, anything.
Instead, a cooler head prevailed, as I offered a tip of my hat to her. A silent greeting that was not heralded by any change in my expression. Beautiful intense, sizzling, scintilating she might have been, but considering that she stood outside the backdoor of the club, wearing barely a stitch of real clothing, and all dolled-up like a high rate walker, I wasn't about to show any more interest than I felt was necessary. Though, damned if I didn't want to show that very interest which I hid behind the veiling shadows over my eyes.
"Evening. Lovely night for a walk."
-----------------------------------
Nika:
~A jet black brow quirked upward as I watched the man travel down the alley way. I could not help but wonder what he was doing here. This place was fairly deserted as a rule. No one ventured here unless it was necessary. I glanced away from him for a moment while I appraised my place of refuge. Littered it was with all manner of waste. Garbage of every ilk and form a society of careless humans could produce. The smell during the summer was horrendous, I rarely came here then.
Only when I was desperate for a breath of something other than cheap perfume and stale booze. I had been a transient tennant of this alley long enough to know that rarely, if ever, did another person use it...Even as the handy short cut it was. Just the rats and I, we had learned to tolerate each other. An uneasy peace at best. If they ventured too close I was not above giving them a solid kick with the spiked heels I normally wore for work.
My gaze was again drawn toward the approaching stranger. Still wondering what business he had in such a place. His steps were smooth and strong, his gait without hesitation and self assured. He looked neither right nor left and did not peer into the shadows that assailed this place at night. It was as if he knew, without the slightest doubt, that he could handle who or whatever might dare confront him. I could not help my smile as his steps became less measured. Though still graceful and full of that smooth confidence he exuded....they tapped a rhythm that was not of walking, but of dancing. His head tipped slightly to the side as if some far off siren sang her beguiling lyrics within his mind. I could almost hear the music, so aptly did his feet narrate the the driving beat.
I shrank back a little into the shadow of the building. My hand coming up to cover my mouth so the laugh lingering behind my lips would not disturb my private dancer. But alas, I had been noticed long before I had noticed him. His dark gaze resting upon my own as if he was peering into my soul.~
Or a dance.
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Epiphano Tragic
A nod, barely glimpsed upon by the eyes of nature. So fleeting was it's passing, that one might even miss it entirely. But I could tell she was watching, and knew well enough that she was watching, measuring the passing of time within her own manner, as all those observant creatures did. And just as her attention was paid upon minute details, subtle vices and flittering detail, my own eyes roamed over the sea of her body, taking in all the lucious curves which begged to be touched and caressed by a lover true of heart and guilty of intentions.
"Depends on the dance."
I thought for a moment, that such words might have been tinged with the obviousness of my attraction. But then again, they also felt cold and stand-offish. A delicate balance it was at time, conversing with a beautiful woman. Something I hadn't quite mastered yet. Which was, not to say I hadn't tried. But it was one thing to be able to fight any man within the roped arena, with fists bare and bearing upon flesh and bone. It was entirely different to try and give face and light to complex ideas like want and lust.
"Though, I don't suppose you have that problem."
She had the body of a dancer. Lean, slender, toned. Thighs that could grip a man's waist and squeeze the very pleasure from his muscles. Her arms held that beguiling strength, held so tightly within the guise of a woman's delicacy. Had I not the eye for such things, I would have thought her a meager serving of petite beauty upon a silver platter of innocence. But then, no body stsood outside in an alley, behind a strip club, unless they were lacking that very finite purity which was lost all too quickly in the city.
----------------------------
Nika:
~In the grand scheme of things these two were but a brief breath of time before all of creation. Nothing more or less than granules of dust and moisture wrought together by the hands of bored gods. Each flickered breifly upon the stage, a dance of life. They were born, they lived, they loved, they died. And yet, they thought themselves and their petty peccadilloes so important.
Why then did she feel as if fate had just stepped into her life in the form of a handsome man, who danced to some unheard beat in his head, down a dark, smelly, deserted alley? It seemed as if somewhere, as the arch of time spread above them, casting it's uncaring eye upon all things, someone had decided to notice her. And she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to be noticed, by anyone.
Watching his eyes travel her form slowly, she stood without moving. Only her breath whispered over her lips, accompanied by the rise and fall of her breasts. Which she became suddenly aware were scantily covered by her costume. Her set was next and she had dressed before coming out to the alley to smoke her last cigarette. His eyes lingered upon the soft curves which rose delectably about the décolletage of her scant dress. And as it was supposed to do, it enticed him. He need-n't speak any words for her to know this. The hunger in his dark gaze was quite evident. And though she was used to being oogled and even pawed. There was something about him that made her want to cover herself. As if she wanted him to know that beneath her physical beauty, beneath the smooth skin, pale and almost translucent in the silvered moonlight. Beneath the the seemingly bottomless obsidian pools of her eyes, beneath the full lips and patrician nose. The unblemished brow and the the sculpted rise of her cheeks. Beneath a figure full and lush and capable of bringing a man to his knees to beg her favors. Nika wanted this man to know her. Not the shell that covered the soul...But the soul that was housed in the shell.
The silence lingered as they faced each other. It seemed eons long, but it could not have been more than a few seconds in truth. The rats, her companions in an uneasy truce, scuttled too and fro, chattering busily to each other about tasty morsels found here or there. Somewhere in the distance a cat yowled in the proverbial back alley fence. It's amorous attentions captured by a lady love of feline perfection. The tom's desire clearly written on the plantative notes of his song. Cars rolled by, splashing tires in puddles made by the recent rains, but they too, were off in a world far removed from this one. She knew, marginally, she should say something, but was at a loss for words. Her tongue licked at lips too dry and numb to give way to her voice.
And then a crack of thunder ripped through the sky. It shook the building next to them and left a wake of grumbling echos behind. A flash of ligtening followed and it broke her trance. Glancing quickly toward the sky, she smiled, a smile that would capture a god and make him glad he created such as she. ~
"Or the dancer"
~Soft words almost lost withing another roar of thunder. Wisps of a storm tore at the fragile tissue of her clothes, the air tasted of ozone, the scent of rain riding each breath inhaled. Her gaze reverted back to him as impending doom in the form of a storm rode the stale air of the alley.~
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Epiphano Tragic
Touches of a tingle roaming along my spine. Tendrils of tantilizing tremor rolling through my muscles. Ripples of raw, unbridled passiong seeping into my loins at this moment, this woman, this night shared for the spans of a breath. Twinles of light in the horizon bearing more life than either her or myself should have been offered. Yet there we stood, in a wayward silence that beheld only the intensity of our eyes lingering against the other. Twinkles of moon raining down upon bodies both half clad in various ways and forms.
Slowl did fingers rise from their respite by my side. Tips taking light hold of hat brim, and easing it from my crown as I offered a slight bow of my head in an exaggerated bow. A half mocking acceptance of her reply, a half truthful giving of my accpetance towards her response. So true was it, that the dancer mattered as much as the dance. Yet neither could live without one another, or be consumed without the partnering kind.
A shifting of grasp, as digits splayed to hold upon the bowl of my hat. Lips pulled into a hap-hazard smile which bespoke both sanity, and the equal lack there of. Once more that adornment was placed upon my shaven head, lending it's shade agains the night over eyes which offered so much warmth in the way of lustful gaze. Their color mirroring the emotional distress within my chest, where my heart beat like a furious drum master.
"I get the feeling, both the dancer, and the dance, are something not to be missed."
I was, in all obviousness, talking about her as again my eyes wandered over her body in ways that scavenging carrion birds would be jealous of. I wanted her, hungered for that flesh which lay beneath so thin a covering as the costime which scarcely offered itself as protection from the elements. Elements that were rather rapidly coming to dampen the city again, within sheets of it's heavenly waters. Droplettes of redemption to clean away the sins of man and woman alike, and bring us some semblance of innocense that we once knew when we were children.
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Nika:
*The heavens shook the earth. Great trembling roars of thunder each hard upon the heels of tearing streaks of lightening. Clouds tumbled over the moon, dancing and scuttling to obscure it's glow in eerie half light. Their bellies heavy, pregnant with moisture that would not be denied it's birth. Each split of the heavens brought him in clear releif against the absolute blackness of the night. His movements much like those of an old movie, or a stereograph. Instead of the fluid grace I had witnessed earlier, it brought him into clear focus at odd moments. So that his movements did not blend together as did his dance, but splayed jerkily into life. I thought, oddly, of an old Charlie Chaplin movie and laughed aloud. The sound torn from my lips as quickly as it was born. An offering to appease the gods of the oncoming storm, to be found lacking in the dedication of the sacrifice.
From the sublime to the ridiculous, he doffed his hat and offered me a courtly bow. Again that old time cinema star came to mind. The flicker of the lightening reminiscent of the odd, jerking motion of those old time movies. Again I could not help but laugh, he lacked only the shirt, over size shoes and twitching mustache. For a moment I had the odd urge to curtsey and flutter my eyelashes. Simpering and giggling like a stage coquette, given to enrapture the beau of fancy. Indeed my hand fell to fasten upon the silken tendrils of the costume that swirled around my thighs. Pushed to and fro by the careless wind, it gave brief glimpses of the g-string beneath it's gossamer sheen. Only then did I think better of the idea. For I had nothing of the giggling, innocent damsel about me. I was deeply shaded in temptation and desire. A perfect vision of Lilith thrown from the garden by an irate god.
Instead I turned my face toward the enraged heavens again. I loved storms, all kinds and ilk of storms. The made me feel alive in the way nothing else could. The electricity that lay within the air roise the hair on the nape of my neck and along my arms. I felt my nipples harden within their thin prison of fabric. My long, ebony shaded hair flew like a wips of a tattered pennant behind and about me. Giving way with the whimseys of this fickle wind. It lashed wildly about my face and form and gave me the look of a Medusa that was intent upon turning flesh to stone.
His words brought me back to earth. My dark gaze, once again, seeking his own. The hat, placed firmly back upon his head, shadowed his eyes within it's fabric gloom. But it could not hide the flicker that lingered in that darkness. I thought that perhaps, nothing could until death found him and placed her hand over his eyes to coax and tease him to enternal sleep.~
"You have only to pay the price to find out if you are right."
~My head inclined toward the door of the club. Indicating that he need only to pay the cover charge to watch the dancer within the embrace of her dance.~
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Epiphano Tragic
A bowing of roiling, cotton barrier. Clouds unable to retain the weight which they had suckled forth from the very air, only to give it back within a deluge. A race of droplettes from their whispering start gate, loosing within a single moment the waters which pelted down upon the world beneath. Perhaps though, I was the lucky finish line this time. The destined prize for their heated travels towards an earth that would suckle upon each with ravenous thirst.
Within passing breaths, I found myself soaked. The rainfall thick like the gaze which peered out from beneath my hat. A sheen of glistening moisture collecting upon the bare flesh of my torso, and falling further to bleed into my slacks and shoes. Yet I did not move amidst the drowning, simply holding her eyes, her body within my ever wanton view. Every exhale brought upon a need to taste, to touch, or take. And yet, still I remained motionless save for the subtle tremble of muscle and skin above my heart.
Another flash of static within the air, coursing along like a freight train headlong into some unknown station to drop off it's passengers. The afore mentioned burden being attraction, magnetism, chemistry if you will. And so clearly I could see it echoed upon her body, within the depthy pools of those eyes which stared back at me. The way she shifted her weight, how she licked at her lips. The more I looked upon, the more I realized that I wanted to pay, I wanted to get inside of the club to watch her dance. Perhaps, I wanted to pay to see a private show, where I might become another one of those men grabbing and pawing and carooning out my caterwal song to this creature of perfection.
"Maybe the show I want, the dance I'm hungry to see, can't be bought with step inside that door."
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Nika:
~And then the heavens poured forth her regret in one mighty torrent. Tears of rain fell in heavy droplets upon my skin. Each struck without a sound, yet it's death echoed in all of time. The earth took what it could, but being drenched from the previous rain o earlier, it regurgitated the excess in puddles filled with the alley's filth. Flotsam and jetsam swam in dank, oily pools that stared back at the grumbling sky with bane disinterest.
Dark strands of hair slicked against my skull. Ebony rivulets that curled their fingers closely against my form. Like a lovers wanton fingers they encompassed my breasts, sheilding prying eyes from the view that the soaked fabric now gave. My long, dancers legs were outlined in shimmering perfection as my dress clung to me lovingly. The skin of my body glistening with moisture as it did after I had danced long and hard before the slavering masses that helped to pay my bills. My meager exsistance fed only by their lustful desire and waton howls.
In the savergy of this onslaught and deep within my own thoughts, I stood before this stranger. His eyes still devouring the sight of me as a starving man would devour his first meal in weeks. I could not help but wonder why. He was a good looking man, toned of body and handsome of face. In every nuance of him lingered danger. It was beneath his skin as surely as there was blood and bone and sinew. His very walk the gait of a predator. His calm assurance in even dank and dark places, assured and without an ounce of fear. I could see no weapon, but that did not mean there wasn't one. But somehow I thought no, this one would use his hands. He would delight in the feel of bone and skin splitting beneath the onslaught of his fists.
So why did he gaze upon me as if I was the first woman he had seen in weeks? I knew not. Perhaps he thought me easy prey, a conquest that would feed his male pride. His next words spoke loudly of that very idea to me. And yet I could not quite reconcile that he would need me as another notch on his bedpost. The club was full of women that would throw themselves upon him in eager anticipation of what that hard body promised.
I let his words trail away upon the wind and rain and thunder. I only stood and looked at him. I was already soaked to the skin, what did a few more minutes matter.~
"Perhaps not. But it is the only one you will get from me."
~Did my voice sound as harsh to him as it did to me. There was a cold and biting edge to it that I did not intend. Echos of my childhood rang in my head. My father's hands, unwanted upon me, probing my secret places and robbing me of my innocence long before it was time. I could not shake that past no matter how I tried. And when I thought of it, I retreated into myself. Before me always, the vision of my father, laying dying upon his death bed which I had constructed with pretty poison.
--------------------------------
Epiphano Tragic
~~New Conenant / 2004~~
A smoothed sculpture of ice. A work of art too pure and frigid of heart to be anything more than a beautiful work to be scrutinized by the men who looked about in reveric desire. Yet I looked beyond her, beyond the soft exterior and jagged lines of experience. Staring so deeply that I could almost see her soul, burning and thumping in time with life's gyrating rhythm. Each pulse another scent to be trailed upon, to be followed, lingering against the mere caress of it against my thoughts.
"Guess you get a lot of hoods looking for a private show. Must get pretty old after awhile. Constantly trying to get you in their spider webs. A bunch of one-line pickups aimed at what's between your thighs, rather than what's behind your eyes."
How easy it would have been to just reach out, to tear away the gossamer thin cloth and reveal the creamy alabaster flesh beneath. So thin were her garments, that a good, stiff wind would have slipped them from her shapely form and left her bare to the world. But I wouldn't be that wind, nor would I bring my hands near her. She was something else. A dame I couldn't touch, nor could I have. Trouble written in a myriad of different languages, all looking for something bigger and better. I could see that on her face, as I felt her looking me over. I could see it in the way she stood, unafraid of the vermin scampering about in the shadows, chittering over their pacts with the devil.
Finally, I reached out. Fingers curling slightly as their traversed their path through the air. Muscle and tendon tensing, bringing bone beneath lightly tanned flesh to ripple with every movement. The actions echoed upwards through my limb, finally taking residence within the breadth of a shoulder, toned from my hours in the gym. Eyes watching, studying, observing the way the air almost moved around my body, how the rain pelted against and trickled off my arm, before finding it's place upon the dirt ridden alleyway.
In a single moment, the decesion was made, and slowly I opened the door. Never letting my eyes leave her form, the sulty curves begging me over and over with voices that I didn't want to hear ricocheting within my mind. Instead of obeying their wants, their hungers, I pulled open that portal into the club, watching the billows of smoke roll out into the storm stained air. All the while my lips remained pursed flatly, not sure whether to frown or smile at her open rejection of my own desires.
"What's the cover charge?"
-----------------------------
Nika:
~I knew what he was thinking. Not because I was a seer or soothsayer. Not because I was precognitive or gifted with second sight. But because I had seen that same hungry look in a hundred pairs of eyes on a hundred nights. The gleam of desire, of want, of need of a lust that knew no bounds, not one of reason, or wallet, or wives, or children. Eyes that had no brain behind them because it had settled within the crotches they rubbed with one hand as they tucked money in glittering g-strings with the other. Mouths that called me baby, sugar, honey, sweet thang! Lips that lied in the promise of a paradise I had never known. Grabbing and grasping fingers that thought because I danced for them, gyrated to the insistant beat of the blaring music, that they had a right to touch me.
As his hand reached out toward me, I watched the play of muscle beneath his skin. He could overtake me if he chose. I was strong, well toned, I spent hours everyday working out. But I would be no match for him and I knew it. His flesh glittered with moisture and his torso was clearly and cleanly defined even in the struggling light of the moon. Yes, he could take me, and he knew that. But he also knew that though he might possess me physically, he would never own my mind, my soul, the very essence of me. Long ago, as a little girl of 12, I had learned to lock that portion of myself away, while my grunting, sweating father lay on top of me in my little girl bed, spilling his rancid seed within my delicate child's body. I knew depravity well, and I knew how to protect myself from it. The physical was nothing, it was toy, a shell that housed the fire of spirit. You could twist, bend it, break it...ravage it. But if you never allowed it inside, it would never break you.~
"Not all of them are hoods." ~I replied quietly. In fact most of them were not. Most were 'decent' business men with real lives and a 9 to 5 white collar job.~ "How do you know there is anything behind my eyes. I could be an empty headed bimbo. My only asset being my ability to bump and grind my way to a few bucks"
I watched as his extended arm snaked past me. His strong fingers lingering upon the cheap, faux brass door knob that led to the back hallway of the club. As he rotated his hand, I heard the quiet snick of the latch as it gave way, even above the noise that rolled out covered in smoke. I sighed softly then, this was my life and I wondered breifly if it always would be. If my dream of law school and court rooms and a home in the quiet suburbs with a swiming pool in the back yard and a Saab in the driveway, were destined only to be dreams.
The scent of cheap booze, cheaper perfume and raucous laughter assailed me as I turned toward the open door. The smell and sound of desperate people trying to convince themselves that they were having a good time, that someone loved them, that they mattered. When one only had to look into empty eyes dimmed by booze and lust to know...they were only partially successful. Booze and lust eventually wore off and you were left flacid and wanting until you could work up the balls to start the cycle all over again.
I did not answer his question about the cover charge as we were going in the back way the point was moot. I did however turn on my heel even as I started down the hall. Facing him I realized how very tall he was. The quarters were close and I had turned abruptly. As he had been close upon my heels, there was scant a hands breadth between us. I had to tip my head back to gaze up into his face, and I was tall.~
"By the way, I am Nikanova...Most call me Nika."
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Epiphano Tragic
~~New Conenant / 2004~~
A breath inhaled of her's, the fragrance tainted and tinged by tobacco and dreams. The scent touching against my senses, bringing arousal to grow more encompassing, more complete. I found myself becoming so rapidly addicted, and I knew nothing of this woman save for her chosen profession, and within the steps inside, I came to know her name. Nikanova... Nika. Russian sounding. Like one of of those fifth generations who's grandmother's grandmother's grandmother came over from the mother land ages ago when the Statue of Liberty still meant something. When it was more than just another tourist trap sucking in the poor and the impoverished souls of foreign nations.
Behind her I followed, feeling the breeze capturered between shoulders and walls where barely enough room was left to breathe, let alone move. Then she stopped, sudden, swift, unaware that I was so close against her back that I could inhale the scent of perspiration laden shampoo within the ebony lockes of hair that flowed down her back, moist and damp by rainfall. A moment passing too quick to recall, where I touched againt her body, where we melded as one and so easily molded along the curves of the other.
"Name's Epiphano Tragic. Epi works, too."
Epiphano. A name which was part itallian, and part cuban. My mother wound up winning that debate upon a name, which brought me very little ridicule, as no one through my life save for those who knew me, and my mother when extremely annoyed with my exploits, could say correctly. There was a time when I dreaded it, when the very sound made me cringe and shiver from head to toe. Now, it was the mantric chant within the arena, offered as sacrifice to the bathing of blood against knuckles which occured when I stepped inside the ropes.
That brought me back to her. To Nika. To the woman who within the spanse of an evening's conversation in an alley, enthralled and enamored me unto her in ways no other had. I suddenly found myself question all those other fling's and relationships I once had, and wondered what could be. Yet the moment I thought of such frivilous pleasures, a sweeping glance over her supple, soft, icey features reminded me that any chance taken, would be a risk not worth following through.
I was left then to simply look down into her eyes. The dim lights from above us cut in half by the brim of hat, scarring my features within jaded shadows. A stark contrast played out over those ridges of flesh which could not be hidden within the depths of darkness. My eyes, the whole while, staring down into hers. Realizing that she was the tallest woman I had seen in as many years, making me feel as though I could quite dominate the space she inhabited. I could only look down, and see a woman seeking her equality within this world.
"You going to dance in those clothes?"
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Nika:
*Within the sounds encased in this narrow passage. I heard only him. It seemed as if all other things went the way of the unimportant. I found myself a hair's breath from touching him, my fingers curling at my side to control the impulse. Here in this space, he took the breath from all other living things and made it his own. As fire eats oxygen and burns brighter and hotter with each lick of flame laden tongue, so he shone and all others became mere smoke in his presence. Though he was darkness itself, a shadow written in undeniable lines. He was the shade in the corner of your room at night, drawing your eyes again and again, seeing nothing but knowing that something was there. And as your vision settled with unwavering intensity upon that darkest apex were wall meets wall, and talks in their arcane plaster language. You became aware that should that the shimmering blackness, blacker than any other place within your room of pitch and gloom, begin to move and speak. You would belong to it forever. Your abyss joined in enterity with the entity which had come, unbeknownst to you, to claim your heart, your soul, your body, your mind.
I knew myself becoming entranced in a way I never had before. Drawn to him as the sea is drawn restlessly toward a midnight shore under a high and pregnant moon. I wondered, as we stood, toe to toe and almost eye to eye, if I had met him before. Perhaps along a corridor in my nightmares, or a flowered path within my dreams. Why did he seem so familiar, yet his face a complete mystery to me. Silent we stood for a very long time, I knew him to be examining me, and I did not flintch. I had been looked at by men all my life, with eyes made of avarice and longing. I knew every look of want and need, of passion and desire. Every druken gaze, red eyed and ugly, that spoke of their salacious desire to possess.
Under the shaded brim of his hat, that was pulled low over his eyes, I saw all those things. Written as clearly as if they were scrawled upon the club's mens room wall. Yet the deeper I looked into those twin ebony pools, the more I saw the soul of the man before me. And I knew, though he could reach out and take what he wanted, he would not. He might frequent with whores when his need became a burning appetence in his loins, but he had no need for rape. Perhaps I saw a flicker of respect for me there, though I could not imagine why. We had barely exchanged names and knew each other not. But still, something nagged at me that I could not shake.
My nostrils distended, his scent wafting to me even amidst the myriad cloud of smells in this place. He carried the odor of clean sweat and tabacco..tinged with something that could have been cologne or after shave; though I thought it not the latter because his beard showed itself upon the chisled line of his jaw and along the strong curves and muscles of his neck. My eye followed the path it had set my eboy gaze upon, over his shoulders and the broad expanse of his chest. His skin shone with droplets of rain, reflecting oddly the amber lighting in the narrow passageway where we still stood. It brozed him, gilded him, made him look as if he were a greek god, carved from gold in homage to those that called Mount Olympus home. Should I kneel and grovel to pay homage to this earthbound diety? How many virgins would he require to sate him? Would one do? The thought made me laugh, a soft sound barely audible in this crowded, ugly, rife with the dregs of humanity, confined corridor.
Tick, tick, tick went the clock as we stood. Though neither of us were aware of the passage of time. The minute and second hand counted off as was their only duty in this world. Barely I heard the music, blaring and racous and insistently lewd. The patrons howling and stamping their feet as the girls gyrated and stripped off their clothes. The announcer calling for applause for each consecutive act, even as the music started for the next. Suddenly I did not want to be here. I wished we were somewhere other than this place of dirt and lust. This place where men and women fought for one moment of happiness, even if it was only a sham, a pretense of something they would never truly have.
For the first time in forever I was ashamed to strip. Ashamed of what I did for a living...what I had to do. I was damn good at it, better than most. I could dance, I mean really dance. My body was long and lithe and graceful. I was enticing to watch, my thin, gossamer costumes, my body shimmering and sparkling under the multi colored lights. Every movement practiced for long hours in the dance studio I attended. The music did not drive me, no, I controlled it. I was never wanton abandon, but abandon wanted. Where the patrons yowled and howled at the other girls when they were on stage. Total silence fell when I set my foot upon it. And when I was done...I could hear them panting. I was always in control.
But now I did not want that control. I wanted him to see me as I truly was, a law student. In little horn rimmed glasses, a pile of text books strewn around me. My computer screen giving off the soft light of technology. My features drawn into concentration, pencils stuck haphazardly into my pile of ebony hair. Dark eyes shaded with the fringe of my velvety lashes as I read about a world, another civilization away from this place. Away from booze and lust and stink and slime. A world of order and court rooms and beings of intelligence that fought for their clients...or prosecuted them in the name of the people.
As I gazed into his eyes, I wondered if he would ever know the real me. Why I did what I did for a living. And at the same time I wondered why it was so damn important to me that he know I was not just some low life stripper in a sleazy club. Even though, as far as things went in this place, I was the queen. I could have my choice of any guy out there, and then some. I often heard them calling my name between acts. Did in fact, hear them now. "Nika. Nika. Nika. Nika." The last act before mine was being called, Candy the Stipper, not very original, but then, most of these girls were lucky they could read.
Suddenly my hand shot out and landed upon his arm. His skin was hot beneath my fingers, the gilt god had life after all. I dug my nails, polished harlot red and perfectly shaped, into his flesh, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough for him to know he was to follow me. Placing my other hand, palm flat against his chest, I stood on tiptoe to whisper to him.. Our height difference was not great, but still enough I had to reach to place my lips against his ear.*
"I'm not going to dance at all." *An answer to the question he asked but a short while ago. "Follow me." *My voice was hurried and hushed even in my own ears. I sounded very much like a child who was about to cut school. Or perhaps...Like a woman about to take a desperate chance.
Without waiting for his answer I turned on my heel and started down the hall. Pushing past the bodies that stood shoulder to shoulder in it. Strippers lining up dates for after the show. Men come to ogle into the communal dressing room. The girls putting on a show for them and displaying their wares in hopes for a little after work overtime. I know I was muttering something to them as I shouldered my way through. Some of the men recognized me and put their hands on me...Winking and grinning wolfishly as they asked what I was doing after my show. Normally I would have kicked them in the balls for their trouble, but right now I just wanted out. I sought the door that Epihano and I had entered only moments before. An eternity seeming to have passed since then. A lifetime in the space of mere heartbeats*